


My Pleasure

by shrewbuddy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasizing, Lust, M/M, One Shot, a mild smut if you will, but still safe for work, low-key not safe for work, nervous!james, rough!Keith, you get me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrewbuddy/pseuds/shrewbuddy
Summary: Based on that single scene where Keith tells James, "my pleasure," after getting them all in trouble.Keith works at Chick-Fil-A; James likes chicken sandwiches and Keith.For the past few weeks, it has been this same routine, and while it's simple to just zoom through the drive-thru, he will always go inside to merely stare at the one cashier whose resting bitch face should have disqualified him from working at any Chick-Fil-A.His round, metal name tag says "Keith," and it's a name that haunts James - morning, noon, and night.





	My Pleasure

James has an invariable routine at this point. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday just before the dinner rush, he works his way through the banisters at his local Chick-Fil-A, orders a deluxe chicken sandwich with Polynesian sauce on the side, and settles himself in a seat just to the right of the pick-up counter. There, he is close enough to hear the workers bustle and move as the large families come in droves to feed screaming kids and the university students scrape the bottom of their wallets to afford a nice dinner.

It also gives him a direct line of sight of the cashiers.

For the past few weeks, it has been this same routine, and while it's simple to just zoom through the drive-thru, he will _always_ go inside to merely stare at the one cashier whose resting bitch face should have disqualified him from working at any Chick-Fil-A.

His round, metal name tag says "Keith," and it's a name that haunts James - morning, noon, and night. 

James had first ran into Keith when he was an employee-in-training and fell in lust with him moments into ordering his food. There was something behind his strange eyes that pulled James in, and his monotonous voice was so peculiar against the shrill happiness of every other employee around him.

_“Uh, sir?”_ Keith had said. _“It’ll be $7.36."_  

James had felt the blush coming to his cheeks and let out a flustered, _“Oh, right. Um, thanks.”_

_“My pleasure.”_

James looks down and takes a waffle fry from his tray, only to quickly look back up toward Keith’s direction. Earlier that day, James had spent his morning commute thinking about exactly the kind of person he _hoped_ Keith would be. Now, James is reliving that same fantasy as he takes a sip from his milkshake. James would offer Keith a ride home from his late-night shift, only to be invited inside when they arrive. He thinks, maybe Keith wouldn’t care about getting to know him, and he wouldn’t even wait for the door to close behind them to shove him into a wall and press his mouth against his. James wouldn’t even hesitate to shove his hands inside Keith’s hair, pull him closer until his whole front was plastered with Keith.

A voice breaks through James’s fantasy.

“You come here a lot,” Keith says. It’s not a question, but an observation. He is standing over the table that James has claimed every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Keith sets a tray down opposite of James and pulls the seat back, inviting himself to the table. 

“I like chicken sandwiches,” James responds, swallowing the knot in his throat.

“And people-watching?” Keith takes a few waffle fries and shoves them in his mouth. “You’re not a freak, are you?" 

James blushes. “What? No!”

Keith’s eyes turn to slits, and he leans across the table. He’s so close, James can make out the purple hues in Keith’s irises. He has a smirk on his face. “You sound defensive.” He has a chicken sandwich in his hand, which he takes a bite of as he sinks back into his seat.

“Well, yeah, no one likes being called a freak.” James’s hands have retreated under the table. He clasps them together, trying to squeeze them hard enough to get his mind back on track.

Keith has no response to that. Instead, he says, “You food is getting cold.” James looks down quickly, then back to Keith. He adds, “You’ve hardly touched it since you got it.” Keith takes a few more waffle fries and shoves it them in. Another bite of his sandwich.

James smiles. “You eat like a pig.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but it slips out before he can police himself.

Keith shrugs and looks up at James, intensity behind his glare. “I’m hungry.”

James swallows. He can feel that same strange energy coming from Keith’s eyes that captivated him the first day. Something about Keith makes him _completely_ irresistible, and James can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that makes him so goddamn hot. All he can do is eye-fuck him until the silence becomes too awkward.

“So, really, James. What are you doing here?” Keith says, his voice causing James to blink in surprise. Keith lifts his drink cup, putting the straw to his lips, the smirk coming back to his mouth.

“You know my name?” James stammers.

Keith motions to the side of James’s tray where James’s credit card and receipt still sits. “We ask for your name with every order, and you’re at my station about three times a week.” 

James laughs nervously. “Oh. Right.”

“You gonna answer my question?” Keith’s voice is harsh and rough, like putting nails in a blender, but there’s something so soothing about it. Perhaps it’s the monotony mixed with the gravel that appeals to James, and with every word, it’s like Keith is forcing James back into a corner – one that he doesn’t want to get out of. He’s brash, aggressive, and everything against the happy-go-lucky stereotype of a customer service employee.

James clears his throat. “I told you, I like chicken sandwiches.” 

The smirk deepens on Keith’s face. “And me?”

James blushes. He doesn’t quite know how to respond, but it seems like it doesn’t matter what he says. Keith knows what James’s intentions are, as if they weren’t obvious by his nervous laughter and quivering mouth. Keith was just intimidating and... _beautiful_ at the same time. It was impossible to get a thought around his mind that didn’t involve getting pinned between Keith and a wall. 

At James’s silence, Keith stands up. “You’re in luck today. I happen to have a couple hours of free time after my shift is over.” Keith starts picking up his trash and putting it on James’s tray, combining the two trays so he can take both of their half eaten food to the garbage. “If you’re looking for something to do.”

Keith starts to walk towards the trash, and James can’t wrap his head around what is happening right now. As Keith tosses the trash in the receptacle, James watches with fascination, shoving his hands in his pockets. Keith is smooth in all his movements, and James lets his eyes glide over every inch of him unabashedly now.

James shakes his head, breaking his trance. “Wait. So, what time will you get off?”

Keith turns to look at him, eyes brazen and sultry. “Right now.” Keith approaches James, closing the space between them in three strides of his long legs. He turns James around to face the door, Keith’s fingers hooking into the waistband of his James’s slacks. He can feel Keith’s breath on his neck as he whispers, “And hopefully, a little later at my apartment.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's something that feels really right about writing a gay love scene in a Chick-Fil-A. That being said, please Chick-Fil-A, don't come for me.
> 
> For more Jeith screaming, follow me on [Tumblr](https://shrewbuddysings.tumblr.com)!


End file.
